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Updated: June 15, 2025
Stafford had gone out after an early lunch to take a wedding in Countisford, while Val had been obliged to ride over to a neighbouring farm. From a hint let fall during the night he was aware that no more than the most laconic wire would be needed, but he fretted under the delay, which meant that Selincourt could not arrive before six o'clock.
Countisford was a small village, smaller even than Chilmark, and owed the distinction of the railway solely to its being in the flat country under the Plain. "But you don't mean to say," said Lawrence incredulous, "that I shall have to walk?"
Barry, stupefied, went out without a word, leaving the big couch, and the big helpless body stretched out upon it, drawn like a bar across the door. It was a fatigued and jaded party that got out on the platform at Countisford.
No man knows offhand the trains that leave London in the small hours, but Val hunted up a timetable its date of eighteen mouths ago a pregnant commentary on life at Wanhope and came back with the information that if they left at seven-fifteen they could be at Countisford by ten. "Too late to keep it quiet," he owned. "The servants are a nuisance. But thank heaven Isabel's with them."
Lawrence had travelled so much that it never took him long to settle down. Even at Wanhope he managed within a few hours to make himself at home. A trap sent over to Countisford brought back his manservant and an effeminate quantity of luggage, and by teatime his room was strewn from end to end with a litter of expensive trifles more proper to a pretty woman than to a man. Mrs.
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